


Archive

by StarryEyedEm



Category: Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryEyedEm/pseuds/StarryEyedEm
Summary: A collection of my older oneshots, left here for a nice trip down memory lane.
Kudos: 2





	1. Observations

" _When this is over, I'll back whatever decision you make."_ This is it; the end of the road. As the general's ship leaves behind the ruins of Nefarious's space station, that very promise echoes in Clank's mind. The soft hums and beeps of the starship's controls mingle with the subtle breathing of the two organics, the only sound reaching his audio receptors. The robot looks out the window, watching the stars fly by, then turns his attention towards the lombaxes, hoping to piece together the thoughts neither would dare to express. First off, the pilot. _"This is General Azimuth. He's been helping me look for you!"_ The general seems tense, as if he is alert to some unseen danger, or preparing for something. What that 'something' was, Clank isn't sure. After the three of them discussed the Clock's limitations, he and Ratchet walked towards Aphelion, determined to stop Nefarious. In response, Azimuth turned to his own ship without another word after being rejected by Ratchet. On the other hand, the general rescued them from certain death when the space station was seconds away from exploding. Clank is, of course, grateful for everyone to be alive, but he can't quite shake this feeling that something is...off about this behavior. _Why would Azimuth return after being denied the Clock? Perhaps I should ask him about his intentions after we land._

Turning his attention to his dear friend gives Clank another feeling entirely. In this rare moment of calm, only now does he have the time to assess Ratchet's condition. His friend is leaning back on his seat, staring through the top of the ship into the sky. He's clearly exhausted, and desperately trying to relax. _That is not unusual, considering all that he has encountered recently. He has been fighting the Agorians, the Valkyries, and Nefarious himself, and that is not considering what he faced to find me._ Clank's mind held onto that thought. Being in stasis from the beginning, the robot had no idea how long Ratchet actually searched. _How long_ _ **did**_ _Ratchet have to search to find me?_ A closer look at his face gives a vague, concerning answer. Underneath the fur beneath his eyes, there are clear purple rings underneath them. There's this distant look in his eyes, as if something is eating away at his mind. It's an expression that Clank has only seen a few times before in his life, most notably after the showdown with Tachyon. The cragmite's claim of knowing Ratchet's 'true purpose' hit a deep nerve, and it was up to Clank to restore his friend's confidence. Inspired by the memory, a small metal hand slowly reaches out towards an armored shoulder, and a gloved hand meets it in return. Ratchet turns towards Clank, giving a small smile. The hiss and click of the landing gears flicks both lombaxes' ears and snaps Ratchet's attention away. As the cockpit opens and everyone touches solid ground, Clank's processors stick to a worrying observation: _That distant look has not left his eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first oneshot I ever wrote, way back in March 2019. I've come a long way, and I have my readers and friends to thank for it.


	2. The Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift oneshot for Chinterra, from June 2019.

The Kyzil Plateau of Veldin is a beautiful place. The land is a mixture of golden sand and impressive rock formations made from all shades of orange. The vegetation is scarce, ranging from nearly dry patches of pale desert grass to the rare green cactus. The planet itself is a junkyard, evident by the large pieces of abandoned machinery littering the walkways. Some parts still have their silver, polished luster, while others have lay dormant for years, tarnishing and rusting from the rare desert storms. And the view at night? Absolutely breathtaking. White stars pepper the black night sky, and the moonlight reflects off of the planet's surface, blending the colors in a way that's indescribably wonderful.

At least, that's what Ratchet's been told all his life. He's never seen it.

Instead, Ratchet sits on a nearby chair, listening to his guardian finish restoring a customer's ship. Despite having been born without sight, he tries to comfort himself with the sounds of the garage that he calls home. The clicks, the whirrs, the ticks, each sound sits a little bit differently in his ears. _Maybe that's what color is like_.

"All done here, ma'am. Give me a call if that engine starts givin' ya trouble again."

"Thank you Grim, I appreciate the help."

"Glad to help."

Ratchet hears an exchange of bolts, then the dwindling footsteps and engine of the last customer of the day's departure. Next, there's the sound of the garage doors closing for the night.

"I'll start sweeping this place up."

Ratchet doesn't mind sweeping too much. The long broom in his hands acts as a cane, giving him a clear 'view' of his surroundings. If only he knew if things were actually getting clean. Large ears perk at a familiar voice.

"Hey, Ratchet, you alright? You seem kinda down today. Haven't said much."

"It's nothing, Grim."

"I know that face, there's something."

Of _course_ his face was betraying his words. He assumes that Grim is looking at him, worried for him.

"Well, nothing new anyway."

"Well, tell me anyway. If something's on your mind, you gotta say it. I'm not-"

"Not a mind reader, I know. I just...wish I could do _more_."

"It's been, uh, bugging you lately, huh?"

"Whenever I feel like I'm at peace with it, that's when it hits the hardest."

Grim stays silent, letting Ratchet continue.

"I can't walk in a straight line, even with a cane. I can't go _one day_ without bruising myself by smacking into stuff. I can't see _anything_. _I never have_."

Ratchet's voice cracks, and he loses his grip on his words.

"I've _never_ been able to watch the sunset. I've _never_ been able to see the stars. I've never even _seen your face_ , or _my own face_ , and I _never will_."

He's crying now, as much as he wishes he wasn't.

"I want to help people. I want to be like _you_ , a mechanic, and _I can't_."

Grim holds him, comforting him as best as he possibly can. As Ratchet's sobs begin to dissipate, Grim speaks up.

"I think you can. Heck, I _know_ you can."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. Ya' know that thing I always say? About steppin' back?"

"That sometimes stepping back from a problem will show you the angle to fix it?"

" _Bingo_. There's a reason I gave you the name Ratchet, ya know."

"Huh?"

"When you first came to me, I tried _everything_ to get you to stop crying. Food, changing, a nap, the works. _Nothing worked_. It was only when I gave up that I found the answer I was lookin' for."

Ratchet looks up at Grim, a light of curiosity in his clouded eyes.

"What was the answer?"

"Well, I set your basket on the workbench, and went back to the hoverbike I was workin' on for a second. You kept screamin' and screamin', until I got back to work. The tool I was usin' clicked as I tightened a bolt, and you stopped."

Ratchet sits with Grim, and that old advice suddenly makes sense.

"I couldn't believe it at first, so I tested you. I stopped workin', and you started cryin' again. I took out the tool and brought it closer to you. I spun it again, louder, longer. You started _giggling_."

Ratchet smiles at the thought, doing his best to imagine the scenario.

"Before you could talk, you would mimic that click when you wanted somethin' I hadn't guessed yet. When you started talkin', you always asked questions. And the answer I was lookin' for back then ended up being your name. The only thing that could calm the lombax kit in my garage."

'Ratchet'.. _he was named after the answer_. He's always enjoyed listening to Grim work, but he never knew it was that deep seated. He yawns, previously unaware of how tired he must have been.

"Think about it, and get some rest, Ratchet. We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

Grim takes his hand, and Ratchet shuffles to his bed. He's out like a light in minutes.

...

The next morning, Ratchet certainly feels a lot better. The talk last night helped a lot, but that's not as important right now. Today's his 15th birthday! He grabs his cane, which Grim must have placed near his bed before he woke up, and greets his adopted father.

"Morning, Grim!"

"Good mornin' Ratchet. You certainly seem happy, and you should be. Come here, I got somethin' for ya."

Grim taps some sort of cardboard. There's something inside, but what?

"Aw, thanks Grim! What is it?"

"It's not what it _is_ , it's what it's _gonna be_. And you're gonna help me build it."

"How?"

"I'll hand you the pieces, and describe what's gonna happen with 'em. You do the rest."

"Well, what's it gonna be?"

"I'll tell ya when it's done."

Ratchet gives a nod and a confident smile. The work begins as Grim places two parts in Ratchet's hands.

"Alright, we're gonna start with these two pieces here. If ya feel 'em, you'll find two notches that we're gonna stick together. Press 'em together, you'll hear a click."

Ratchet does so, and is rewarded with a satisfying _click_.

"Good. Let's keep going."

An hour later, each piece is bolted together, welded together by Grim when necessary, and the..thing is assembled, plugged into an outlet to charge. A nasty storm begins outside, and all the windows are closed off.

"Nice goin', Ratchet, it's almost ready. Just gotta turn it on and.. _Oh no_."

Grim seems to open the mysterious device, closing it disappointed.

"What's wrong?"

"Sisterboard's not working for some reason. Must be faulty or somethin'. Can't go get another one right now either."

"Aw man, we worked hard on it too!"

"I know. As soon as the storm clears, I'll go out and get a replacement."

Ratchet tries his best to stifle his disappointment, and gets distracted by a roar of thunder.

"Whoa, that one was loud. Maybe we should unplug it?"

"Good thinking, we'll just-"

A bolt of lightning strikes the garage, surging through the power lines and blacking out the entire building. He doesn't see it, but two bright green eyes blink to life, cutting through the darkness. It takes a few steps forward, making a distinctive _clanking_ noise as it walks. It speaks.

"Hello."

"WHAAH!"

Ratchet jumps back, caught off guard by the sudden new voice. He regains his breath, and asks the question that's been on his mind all day.

"What is it, Grim?"

" _That's your answer_."


	3. Duty Calls (Sasha X Clank)

Sasha Phyronix sleeps at a desk in her study, and the rising sun shines through the window. A sizeable amount of paperwork is clumsily piled in the right corner, and a nearby empty coffee cup lies at the left. There's a faint ring of dried coffee on the desk near it. She stirs, noticing her cell phone reflecting in the morning light. With blurred eyes, she picks it up, piecing together the story as she tries to wake up.

_Clank:_

_Hello, Sasha. I wished to make contact with you to make sure everything was all right. You left in quite the hurry last night._

_Sent 10 hours ago_

She groans at the memory. The four of them, Ratchet, Talwyn, Clank, and she, were supposed to meet up to go on a double date. However, when they did, Sasha was given an urgent message that there were important political affairs that needed to be dealt with. The others understood, knowing that if it required the mayor's personal attention, it must have been important.

She hurried home, only to find that her young secretary had taken time off due to food poisoning. Without notifying the office. Considering this intern's track record, "food poisoning" probably translates to "got carried away at last night's college party". And so Sasha found herself neck deep in paperwork.

_Me:_

_Everything's fine here. I swear I'm going to have to replace that secretary though. Just have a lot to catch up on._

_Sent 9 hours ago_

_Clank:_

_That is good to hear. I will leave you to your work. Let me know if I can offer my assistance._

_Sent 9 hours ago_

Sasha managed to finish a bit of it, thanks to caffeine, but must have fallen asleep at her desk according to the cramp in her neck. She lets out a defeated sigh as she glances at the paperwork left, and gets up to shower.

A piece of toast here, a toothbrush there, and a quick change of clothes. Her usual, purple uniform is rejected in favor of a baggy white shirt and grey leggings, and her gold headband is removed as well. It's not like she's expecting visitors today anyway, so might as well dress comfortably.

Just as the thought enters her mind, there's a gentle knock on the door. Of course.

She looks through the peephole, only to find nothing there. Confused, she turns away from the door. The stress must have gotten to her worse than she thought. As she steps away towards the kitchen for that toast she left on the counter, there's a voice.

"It is me, Sasha."

 _Oh crap. Why him? Why now_ , with toast crumbs on her face and no proper clothing? But she can't turn him away now, and she can't deny that she would like his company.

"Oh, uh, hello Clank. I'll let you in."

The door opens, and Clank steps inside the living room. He looks at her with a smile on his face, and sits down on a simple couch. Sasha returns the smile, a bit embarrassed at the current situation.

"Sorry I haven't had the chance to freshen up, I just woke up thirty minutes ago."

"It is all right, Sasha. I do not mind your current appearance at all. My concerns are elsewhere at the moment."

Clank focuses on her, scanning her. Sasha's face burns at the words. _I do not mind your appearance._ Her heart warms at the thought. She's in her most comfortable, her most private mode of herself, and Clank _doesn't mind_. No makeup, no uniform, no decorations. _Just Sasha_.

A moment passes, and he speaks up. There's a worried look on his face.

"I assume you did not sleep well last night? That work must have taken a toll on you."

Sasha's face drops a bit. Her exhaustion must be pretty noticeable. _Maybe I can play this off?_

"Yeah, there was certainly a lot of it. I've been working on it though."

"Have you made substantial progress?"

"I'm about halfway through."

"Do you recall that I can detect the lie in your voice? Please be honest with me."

A defeated sigh, and a quick correction. She really _can't_ lie to him, regardless of that ability of his. She drops herself on the couch next to him, and the black cloth cradles her back.

"About a fourth of the way through. I thought I could go through it quicker, but I must have been more tired than I thought."

"Perhaps I could offer my assistance? I do not mind spending time with you, regardless of the activity."

"I'd like the company, sure. What about Ratchet and Talwyn, are they upset?"

"About last night? No. They encouraged me to visit you this morning."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, in his own teasing words,"

Clank stands, pressing a button on his chest, and an audio recording plays.

" _Come on, pal, go check on her. You know you want to."_

Sasha smiles. She can practically hear the smug grin that must have been on Ratchet's face. Clank cuts off the recording, bringing his attention back to the present. He jumps off of the couch, taking a step towards her office. Offering his hand to Sasha, He turns toward her.

"So, shall we finish your task together?"

Sasha gives a warm smile, grateful for the little robot and everything he does for her.

"I'd like that."

…

Hours later, the mountain of intimidating bureaucratic nonsense is reduced to neatly organized stacks, placed in the proper channels and ready to be passed on to wherever they need to go. Sasha leans back in her chair, and Clank sits at her side in his own.

"Thanks again, Clank. I don't know what I'd do without you. I want to do the best I can, but there's only so much one person can do."

"You may have important duties as mayor, but I do not mind offering my assistance if you need it."

Making eye contact, he continues as he takes Sasha's hand.

"I will always be there for you, Sasha, in both matters of business and personal affairs."

The metal hand around her own gives a comforting squeeze.

"That is my duty to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift fic for KillerMeme on Discord, from May 2019.


End file.
